"Jibreel..." Her voice whispered in abandon, his name. His heartbeat faltered.
"My Rabb have surely created you just for me... Everything you do... Every move you make was designed to falter my heart and make me love you more!" He whispered back to...
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Assalamualaikum Wa rahmatullahi Wa barakatuhu...
__________
A week later.
Zuhayr's heart was filled with a grief so heavy that he was almost, almost on the verge of a mental breakdown due to it. His Jibreel wasn't back yet and he was regretting not sticking with his nephew. His safety was Zuhayr's responsibility and Zuhayr Ibn Ahmad had failed. The future of Ghazdaan had disappeared in thin air and nobody knew whether the sky had stolen him away or the earth had hid him. Zuhayr was in tremendous pain. The King Muhammad wasn't just his king, he was Zuhayr's brother, his companion and his comrade. Losing Jibreel was like losing Muhammad once again.
Around him the safehouse had gone dead silent. Even though he had ordered the soldiers, to get ready for the war and march ahead, the air was too sombre by their leader's disappearance to be loud. The men's spirit had sunken low. Muntaha was the life of their army and if he stumbled then their morales would stumble too. They were all spreading out through out the forest for Zuhayr to lead them now.
The forest was dark and silent, even with the moon shining above. The night air was cold but the warriors didn't feel the bite, with the blood roaring loudly in their veins. They needed something of Muntaha. They needed either him back or atleast some news regarding him. They needed his calm and cold presence to stiffen their spine and strengthen their heart. They needed his confidence to march.
Murtaza bit his lips helplessly as he watched the men shuffle. Even though the fire of revenge shone through their eyes, the wind of doubt was trying to put it off. His brother needed to return or they would lose everything. But the real reason for Murtaza to want him back, was because he was a part of his heart. And his heart would become irreparably damaged if he didn't return.
Zuhayr watched around him in silence and sighed. Muntaha... They had named their Jibreel, their prince as Muntaha, because they had wanted to hide his identity from the world. They wanted to hide that he was alive from the very crown, but regardless of that, the rumor that he was alive always birthed once or twice, every two to three years. Muntaha isn't a name in general. It just meant the highest limit. Without adding something in front of it, it didn't mean anything except the limit. They had named him a limit. And he hadn't accepted it like other children. He was just seven and a half years old when he had pondered on his name and came to him in disturbance. When he had lifted Muntaha and settled him on his lap, he had turned towards Zuhayr with complain shining in his beautiful eyes. Zuhayr could never forget that day.
"Tell me Ya Amm!" Muntaha said. He had been taught to call him Amm (uncle) and not father, so that he knew who he was. He had witnessed Murtaza call Zuhayr father and tried it but then Jehaan and he had sat with Muntaha and told him of his identity. Granted that he hadn't exactly understood who he was then, but they had repeated it so many times that he had gradually known who he was and why he couldn't call Zuhayr as Abi. "Why did you name me Muntaha? I know in reality am Jibreel ibn Muhammad but I have to carry the name Muntaha for a long time. Couldn't you name me something that had meaning?" He had sighed. And even in his childishness the sigh had seemed mature. Zuhayr had bit his lip to keep himself from laughing. "Muntaha means just a limit... the highest limit! Why couldn't you name me something else?"
